Den of Thieves
by Azkam Shazam
Summary: Bojan Krkić lives a normal soccer filled life when the unexpected strikes. Murder, adventure, and a national underground secret society throws Bojan into a life he never knew he had. But who says this little footballer doesn't have a secret of his own?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: There are real and OC people in this story, You have been warned. **

**Note: Ok, sorry I up and deleted the story, "Den of Thieves: Proving Innocence". I deleted it because I wanted to update it and change it. So, this story is a result of this. It has the same main character. **

**Also, I got views for the "Den" story, but no REVIEWS. I would really appreciate it if someone reviewed this or any of my other stories. Thanks. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story and this preface I have written!  
**

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**Preface**

A lone figure stood half shrouded in darkness, struggling not to tremble in dread. A foul stench greeted his nose with a certain unpleasantness, but the aroma of fear was by far the only thing he could smell.

"Where is it." the voice coldly asked, and the atmosphere in the room cackled with apprehension.

The man remained motionless and bit his lip, afraid his mouth would spill information he did not wish to share. He would not be able to stop, for the fear would cause his words to gush out like a mighty river, betraying his feelings and revealing all he had said and done.

But in his mind, he whispered, "_I can't find it."_

"You have failed twice now, and our terms must be reinstituted. There are always repercussions to faulty actions." the words had a hollow ring to them, ominous and foreboding.

The room itself was cold and damp while water dripped from the ceiling, creating small puddles in the cracked cobblestone floor. High up above, a small break in the middle of the ceiling allowed some light to escape into the room, casting the speaker into a mysterious glow.

He clenched his fists and ground his teeth, fighting the urge to scream. How was he supposed to meet their unreasonable deadline?

Suddenly, the man fell to the ground in agony, letting a cry escape his lips, and clutching his shoulder as a knife hovered over him, now dripping with his blood.

"Where is it!" the man's attacker screamed, slicing the tension in the room with razor-sharp alacrity. Livid with rage, he stood tall over his victim. He savored the power he had over him, the fear he caused.

"I do not like waiting. No one shall make me wait. I should just kill you right now, but you still serve a purpose…" the man's attacker hissed, pointing it dangerously at the man's face.

Now crouching on one knee, the man tightly grasped his shoulder, blood leaking out from between his fingers. That nearly sliced his Shard!

"_I am too exposed."_ the man grimly thought through his haze of pain, and readjusted his hand to properly cover his shoulder.

He wanted to defy, to rebel! For too long this has gone on.

Far too long.

The man turned to glare at his attacker with all the malice he could muster.

What greeted his sight froze the blood in his veins.

Four red orbs with yellow catlike pupils illuminated the partial darkness, and as they grew closer, the man realized they were attached to two faces and two bodies. The two tall darkly clad _things_ moved toward the man in slow, measured steps.

Powerfully built but agile looking, they moved in sync to stop in front of the man, crossing their arms. Their faces were covered, with only their eyes showing.

And looked down at him, eerily, never blinking, gazes unwavering.

No.

No.

NO!

Not these…these _monsters_. They were merely legend, not fact. What unfortunate soul has become this monster, and who is unlucky to come across this…?

No one but him.

The man struggled to get away from them, but was manhandled into a standing position by the new comers. They roughly grabbed his shoulders, and it took all the man's resolve not to elicit a grunt.

He mustn't show weakness; It only fed the fire.

They roughly turned him to face the man's attacker, silhouetted in the shadows. Beads of sweat appeared on the man's brow, and he fought the urge to be sick.

"I see my _pets_ have the desired effect. I feel that they will be a valuable addition for the search and I expect you to lead them to it. If all else fails…," here the attacker paused, chuckling darkly,

"Well, we wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?"

The man considerably paled but raised his chin defiantly.

"I will not fail this time." Hell no, he wouldn't.

But where was he to look for an object of old?

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**Well, how was that? Tell me in a review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned the club FC Barcelona, that would be a miracle. Unfortunately, I do not. **

**Notes: Wowo, I have finally gotten back to this story, after how many weeks? Or months...The point is that while you may skip this introduction I am writing and gloss over my story, you must REVIEW and give feed back. I know there are some people out there who review stories. (Of course silly!) **

**Anyways, REVIEW this story, please and tell me what you think! It means a lot to me when I have reviews! Flames are welcome but must be in moderation and they also must make sense.  
**

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**Chapter 1: Welcome to Monday **

**Barcelona, Spain **

**The Apartment **

"Arrggg…What time is it?"

Bojan Krkic was a lot of things, but "rising with the sunshine" as his teammates so irritatingly called morning people, was not on his list. He fumbled to turn off his obnoxiously loud alarm clock but his sheets prevented him from even raising an arm to turn the noisy thing off.

He found himself wrapped like a cocoon in his restricting and stuffy bed sheets and promptly fell off the side of his bead like a sack of potatoes, emitting a groan as he fell.

"Goddammnit! These dumb things are too tight! Get. OFF!" Bojan struggled and eventually pulled the sheets from his body and slammed a hand down on his crazily ringing alarm clock. He let his head fall back to his pillow and a loud noisy sigh escaped his lips.

Today was Monday.

Practice was at the regular time of eleven am at the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper, and Bojan fortunately woke at eight. He did his morning routine, ate his breakfast, and ambled out to meet one of his best friends and teammate, Lionel Messi, at the team checkpoint for the bus pickup to practice.

"You look presentable today. Thank goodness you set your alarm clock to ring at the same time every morning." commented Lio as Bojan dumped his bags on the ground and bent to lace up his shoes. His jibe was taken up by Bojan in an instant.

Scowling, Bojan replied, "Yeah yeah, presentable, unlike you…" Lio flashed Bojan a look of mock hurt while Bojan grinned good- naturedly. As they sat on the bus stop's bench, waiting for the team bus to arrive, an armored truck trundled by, coming to a stop across the street. Bojan couldn't help but release a shudder, as if his body were responding to the truck. As if…

Why is his _left _shoulder _hurting_? That had never happened before, and certainly not this sharp pain.

Holding back a hiss, Bojan suddenly grasped his left shoulder, wincing as searing pain shot through his shoulder. The pain would not alleviate, but steadily mounted into a burning sensation. Bojan dropped to one knee and cradled his shoulder.

"Bojan, are you all right? What is going on with your shoulder?" Lio asked, concerned, and crouched down to Bojan's level. He had never seen his friend have such pain written over his features before, and he worriedly tried to pinpoint Bojan's cause of pain.

By now, Bojan was hissing between clenched teeth and rocking back and forth as he sat hunched over on the curb. Why is his shoulder hurting all of a sudden…?

Bojan then felt as if someone was pressing a hot iron to his shoulder, and the pain manifested into his whole left arm growing numb. The fingers on his hand felt fuzzy, and he couldn't feel them. He now felt his eyes tearing up, and a few tears escaped the corner of his eyes when he squeezed them tightly.

Lio was now thoroughly alarmed with Bojan's behavior. He knew Bojan was not a softy, nor one to shed tears. But right now Bojan was _crying_, of all things.

The team bus pulled up to the station, and Lio could make out teammates such as Gerard waving and goofily grinning. But all at once, the smiles and friendly gestures of the teammates turned to distress as they saw Bojan grimacing in pain on the sidewalk.

Now struggling not to yell, Bojan whispered through clenched teeth, "…it…feels like… fire!" His left arm now felt useless and his shoulder was hurting like a bitch. Several of the team doctors exited the bus, rushing to Bojan's side.

The truck rumbled away in a cloud of exhaust, and Bojan smelled this through his haze of pain. Suddenly the pain started to lessen, and Bojan stooped grinding his teeth. Just like that, how could such pain dissipate?

Someone helped Bojan to his feet, and Bojan swayed, blinking lazily and not fully comprehending the situation. His senses seemed dull, and his mind felt like slow moving jello.

From far away, voices intermingled in a confusing jumble, "Bojan, are you all right? Has your shoulder bothered you like this before?" The doctors fired off questions, but Bojan ignored them, dazedly looking at their fuzzy faces. His head was pounding but his shoulder felt as if it had been stamped repeatedly with a cattle branding iron.

"We are not clearing you for practice until we get your shoulder checked up."

The words fell on Bojan like heavy stones, clearing his mind from the fog. He gathered energy to query his most pressing thought.

"What?"

He was not to practice, to play?

"This is not making any sense. Your shoulder has not hurt you before?" Lio asked a downcast Bojan who was being escorted to the bus by two doctors. "I have never had such pain in my shoulder." Bojan said over his shoulder. Lio only shook his head put a hand to his chin.

Very strange indeed.

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**Later **

"…it felt as if someone were pressing a hot coal to my shoulder, it was very painful. And my whole arm was numb, as if it were fuzzy, as strange as it sounds."

Bojan was sitting on an examination table in a medical clinic, talking to one of the team's doctors, Ricard Pruna. The trusty doctor frowned, stroking his chin in thought. It was not everyday a player was ailed by a mysterious injury, let alone one off the pitch.

Bojan tried not to fidget on the table as the doctor asked more questions about the incident. Medical clientele were subject to giving bad news, and Bojan did not want more on his plate.

"Please rotate your left shoulder." The doctor finally ordered, and Bojan complied.

He swung his arm in a half circle, and Ricard felt Bojan's muscles as his shoulder rotated. "It is not tight, I presume?" "No." Bojan said. "Well, your muscle is not tight, maybe it has to do with the muscles surrounding your shoulder bones or the bones themselves. We can do an X-ray just to be safe."

With that, Ricard led Bojan down the hall and came to a dark room. "Stand over here and let's put the X-Ray "jacket" on." The said jacket slipped over Bojan's head and Ricard adjusted it to where the only visible spot of Bojan's upper body was his left shoulder. The circular machine was to pass around its occupant, and Bojan was instructed to stand under and in the middle of the machine and lean his right shoulder against the wall. "All right, just don't move until instructed to." Ricard then left to enter the small control-station in the back of the room, and Bojan was left in semi-darkness, the station providing the only source of light. The machine suddenly came to life and beeped. A green light came on. "_BEeeeeep. Beep. Whirr_." went the machine.

As the scanner slowly rotated, Bojan kept his thoughts blank as his shoulder was X-rayed. The machine passed directly around his shoulder, and Bojan felt pain lace through his shoulder, in the same spot as before. But the pain was more intense than last time.

Bojan cried out, clutching his shoulder and leaning against the wall heavily. The burning was worst than last time, what is wrong with him. The lights in the room suddenly flickered on and the machine shut off. "Bojan, are you all right? Is it your shoulder again?"

Ricard rushed over to Bojan, supporting most of Bojan's weight and preventing the player from sliding down the wall any further. Bojan shakily stood, but his shoulder continued to hurt. "I am placing you under medical surveillance…" said Ricard. Those were the only words Bojan heard as his head once again gained a certain feeling of blurriness.

He was one lucky son- of-a- gun.

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